


Game 6 Aftermath

by nflove



Series: Repainting Golden [1]
Category: Men's Basketball RPF
Genre: Cute, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 04:55:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19222021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nflove/pseuds/nflove
Summary: Steph and Klay deal with Game 6 and Klay's injury. They both care about each other so much.





	Game 6 Aftermath

Klay went up for the dunk, soaring through the air before coming down hard on his left knee.  He grimaced, clutching his knee as pain tore through his body.   He writhed in agony on the floor of Oracle, brain completely empty with a single phrase echoing: Make. It. Stop.

 

Steph had the wind knocked out of him when he saw Klay come down. His vision went blurry, his hearing went silent, he felt sick to his stomach as he watched Klay disappear into the tunnel with Cook and Jerebko.  Why did bad things always happen to good people? He hurled the basketball at the ground with every ounce of his strength.  Anger gripped him like a fiend even as Klay emerged to take his free throws; he could see the pain in Klay’s eyes.  

 

The rest of the game was like a hallucination.  Players were moving, the ball was flying, plays were happening around him, but Steph didn’t feel present.  Steve Kerr tried to snap Steph out of his daze numerous times.  “Curry, look for the screen on the right.” “Curry, stay tight with VanVleet. “Curry.” “Curry.” “Curr…”

 

When the clock struck zero, Steph felt numb.  He exchanged handshakes and hugs with Raptors and teammates, but he couldn’t remember who he talked to or what he said because the only thing in his head was Klay.

 

He rushed off the court and through the hallway, past the cameras flashing in his face, past the reporters waving microphones, past the VIPs, past the security guards, and into the locker room. He snagged his jacket with one hand, threw it on over his uniform and sprinted toward the medical facilities down the hall.  He reached the door, panting, and took a deep breath to compose himself before entering. 

 

Klay sat on a hospital chair, eyes closed.  His knee had been wrapped and was propped up on a stand.  A doctor stood on the opposite end of the room, filling out some forms.  Steph gave her a nod.  After a moment, she walked over to Klay and his eyes fluttered open. 

 

“These” she said, handing him the forms, “are your prescribed painkillers. I have the MRI scheduled for tomorrow at 10:00. Remember it is absolutely critical that you do not put any weight on your leg. In the meantime, you are free to go.”

“Thanks.” Klay said quietly as the doctor exited the room.

 

“Hey.” Steph said quietly. 

Klay gave him a glance. He was covered in sweat and his face looked worn.

“We lost.” Steph said, flat.

Klay swallowed loudly, still wordless.

“Do you want to head out? She said you could go.”

“I can’t drive like this.”

“So what’s your plan? Just stay here until the MRI?”

Klay sighed. “I don’t know.” His voice was fully void of emotion.

“Let me take you home.”

A long silence then “Okay.”

 

Steph got up and helped Klay out of the chair.  Steph collected Klay’s stuff and then they walked together, Klay leaning on Steph, out into the dimly lit Oracle parking lot. Klay had to bend his leg getting into the car.

“You sure you’re good like that?” Steph asked.

Klay winced. 

“Tell me if it hurts too bad.”

 

Steph pulled out of the parking lot and onto the streets of Oakland. The whole city felt dark, quiet, slow, lifeless.  They sped along empty streets of houses decorated with Warriors flags, tirelessly waving in the wind.  They zipped by buildings of hundreds of loyal fans, bitterly watching the postgame because they couldn’t bring themselves to turn off the TV.

 

“ _Shit_.” Klay muttered through gritted teeth.

“You good? Do you need more painkillers?”

“Nah, it’s just…shit.” He said punching the seat. “I can’t fucking take this.”

Steph reached across and put a firm hand on Klay’s shoulder. “Yes you can.”

“I can’t take it.” Klay said louder

Steph fought hard to maintain his resolve. “Yes you can.”

“I can’t. I’m not invincible.”

Steph took his eyes off the road and stared at Klay. “I. Know. You. Can. Nobody but you.”

 

Klay fell silent, agonizingly aware of Steph’s hand on his shoulder. Steph turned back to the road and they drove further into the darkness.  Klay looked across the car as the golden streetlights illuminated Steph’s slender cheekbones, his watery eyes, his controlled fingers grasping the wheel.

 

When they pulled in to Klay’s driveway.  Steph got out and helped Klay out of the passenger side.  Klay looped his arm over Steph’s shoulders and Steph guided him inside to the couch. 

 

“Let’s get your knee elevated. Do you have a box or something?”

“There’s a little table in that closet.” Klay said, pointing. 

Steph got it out, carefully placing Klay’s leg atop the foldable table. 

“D’you want ice?”

“Yeah.”

 

Klay watched in admiration as his golden point guard headed to the kitchen, returning a minute later with a bag of ice.  He flopped down next to Klay on the couch and let out a deflated sigh.

 

“Klay?”

“Yeah.”

“I know you’re in pain, but are _you_ okay? This whole situation is shitty, but can you just talk to me? Is there anything you want me to do?”

 

Klay’s brain froze.  How could he begin to describe the feelings pulsing through his veins, the pain, the sadness, the love, the gratitude.  And to Steph, of all people?

 

 _What could he say? Yes, I want you to kiss my knee and hold my hand and lie in bed with me and promise me that I will dunk again one day and tell me stories of the championships we win together in the future.  I want you to tell me your secrets and so I can guard them like my own.  I want to make you laugh and I want to know the random boring parts of your day. I want you to be mine because you are the best, most caring person I know. And everything is better when it’s with you and thank you for being here and thank you for existing._ But verbosity wasn’t Klay’s style. 

 

“It’s all too hard. You’re _you_ and…”

 

“What’s wrong with me being _me?_

 

No matter how hard he tried to hide it, Steph was hurt, and Klay saw it instantly. And that was like a trigger for Klay.  If Steph was hurting, he had to at least try to answer, give him _something._

 

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you Steph. And yeah, I’m okay; I’m just frustrated. I feel like the worst things always happen at the worst times.  When I was walking into the tunnel, I was just thinking about my career and now, I don’t know what my future looks like.  And I could feel that certainty of knowing what’s next, knowing what my contract looks like, ripped away from me.  Like I didn’t appreciate it enough when I had it, you know? And I don’t know what it’ll take to get us back here.”

 

Steph’s face was full of concern and pain. Klay missed the Steph with the easy smile, the Steph who kicked the basketball around during pregame warmups, the Steph who sauntered around with a smirk on his face, always on the verge of breaking into a ridiculous dance.

 

“Steph, you good for real?”

 

“I,” Steph said looking down, “I can’t explain how much it kills me to see you like this.  After you went down, I was off my game, I played like total shit, I didn’t keep us in it, and I know I can’t ….” A lone tear slipped from Steph’s eye.

 

Klay was mentally kicking himself; here he was complaining about his injury when Steph felt like he had singlehandedly lost the finals. And Steph had been so strong, so supportive, so selfless this entire night.

 

“Hey, hey, hey.” Klay said, suddenly overwhelmed, “Come here.” He gently wiped Steph’s tear away with his thumb, his hand settling on Steph’s neck, bringing him closer gradually.  Klay closed his eyes as their lips brushed ever so slightly.  Both so unbelievably hesitant, each waiting for affirmation from the other until suddenly they were kissing, soft and sweet.  When they pulled apart, Steph broke into a shy smile, eyes glittering with tears and warmth.  And seeing that made Klay smile for the first time since that horrific landing.  And just like that, the world felt a tad kinder.

 

“This sure isn’t what I expected tonight would be like.” Klay said.

“Me neither.” Steph said quietly, “but I kinda like it. Some parts, at least.”

“I like the _you_ part.”

Steph smiled, his eyes flicking across Klay’s heavy eyelashes. “Wanna get some sleep?”

“Yeah, sure.”

And Steph lifted Klay once again, Klay’s arm around Steph’s shoulders, Steph’s arm around Klay’s waist, holding him just a little closer than before. Klay leaned his head on Steph’s as they climbed the stairs to Klay’s bedroom. 

 

They both changed into some of Klay’s old basketball shorts and settled into the bed. Klay felt around under the covers until he found Steph’s hand, taking it gently in his. 

“You sure you’re good Klay?”

“Yeah, I got you.”

“Mmmm yeah.” Steph smiled in the dark. “Your knee good? You need anything before we go to sleep?”

“Nah ‘m good. Who needs ACLs anyway…”

Steph snorted, rolling closer to Klay and burying his face in Klay’s neck.

“Night Klay.”

“Night Curry.”

And Steph let himself lose the day, relishing the presence of the toughest warrior he ever knew.


End file.
